


Get Mine, Get Yours

by Jwink85



Series: Having Your Cake and Eating it Too [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Afternoon delight, Bottom Stan, Cheating, Craig will always be stans daddy, Daddy Kink, Fluff, M/M, Poor Tweek, Slutty Stan, Smut, Top Craig, Unrequited Love, baby get yours, cheating craig, getting the good d, its gonna be okay honey, work me like a 9 to 5 daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 14:49:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17768810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jwink85/pseuds/Jwink85
Summary: Stan and Craig engage in an afternoon tryst; too bad Craig caught feelings.





	Get Mine, Get Yours

**Author's Note:**

> SMUT ALERT.
> 
> Really, I just wanted to write something smutty and lacking in plot. I'm pretty sure I've accomplished that. I also wanted to try a different pairing bc I think Stan and Craig would be adorable together - and they are, I swear. xD I like Stan being a low-key slut and Craig having a daddy kink, lol. 
> 
> ENJOY! <3
> 
> PS: Craig Tucker in suspenders is the best Craig Tucker; just sayin'.

**If you see me with a man**  
**Understand that you can't question me**  
**The feelings that you caught, it ain't my fault**  
**I can't help your jealousy**  
**If you can handle the fact that**  
**What we have has got to be commitment free**  
**Then we can keep this undercover lovin' comin',  
Hidden underneath the sheets**

  **\- Get Mine, Get Yours, Christina Aguilera**

* * *

 

Stan Marsh had been anticipating a nice, easy day; typical, really, without any surprises. As he stood outside and smoked a cigarette, little beads of sweat dotting his forehead from the late afternoon sunlight, he lazily drifted; lost in his thoughts. Work had been about the same that day, a little on the slow side, but he didn't mind. In fact, he relished the days where his job at the pet store were uneventful, almost bordering on the mundane, when the most exciting thing to crop up might be a new shipment or a patron bringing in an unusual breed of dog that he didn't get to see very often.

He was gearing up for a slow second half of his shift when he got the distinct impression that he was being watched. All the signs were there: a slight heat on the side of his face, a slight tension passing over his muscles, the hair on the back of his neck standing up just a tad. It wasn't a sensation that made him feel afraid, only slightly annoyed, and he turned his head in the direction his instincts encouraged; coming face to face with a familiar set of grey, stern eyes. Slightly narrowed, mildly accusatory, grey eyes. He sighed softly and stubbed out his cigarette, flicking it away into the ashtray sitting on top of the garbage can.

"Craig," he said, not by way of greeting, really; more like a simple acknowledgement.

"Stan," Craig replied, walking over and looking impeccable in a striped dress shirt, dark slacks, and cream-colored suspenders; the very image of success. His sleek black hair was stylishly cut: short on the sides, longer on top, and he had a slight five o'clock shadow darkening his jawline. Shiny, black shoes tapped against the concrete as he approached Stan, who could only imagine what he looked like to Craig, who lived for appearances.

"You look like a hundred bucks," he commented, making no attempt to conceal the way he appraised Stan, his cold eyes looking him up and down.

"Always the charmer," Stan couldn't help but laugh, pushing off from the warm bricks of the building and turning to him. "What are you doing here? I thought you were out of town on business or something. At least, that's what Kyle told me."

"I was," Craig replied, tucking his hands in his pockets. He glanced at the store, one eyebrow raised. "I'm running an errand."

"Oh, do tell."

"You have fish here, right?" Craig asked, sounding even more bored than usual; Stan wasn't sure how it was possible. He rolled his eyes.

"It's a pet store, dude, so, yeah, we have fish." Sudden interest fueled his next question. "What, you want to buy one?"

Craig shrugged loosely and turned back to him.

"I think it would be good for Tweek to have a pet. An easy pet, mind you."

"Why not a hamster or something then? At least you can handle those, and besides, fish are a lot harder than they seem."

"Fine, whatever," Craig said, waving his hand dismissively. "Just show me what you have."

Stan could only laugh again at Craig's way of speaking; he would never change, it would seem. He'd always be slightly condescending and bossy. Stan shrugged, feeling amused and not at all ruffled. He'd never change either, after all; he'd been born easygoing, and he would probably go to his grave the same way.

"Right this way, sir," he said, cheekily. Going to the door, he held it open for Craig, who only gave him a look before walking inside, hands still in the pockets of his slacks. Studying them, Stan guessed that they had probably been tailored to fit Craig exclusively, the fine material hugging his long legs perfectly. Craig Tucker had always been all legs, ever since he'd shot up in high school and become one of the taller kids in their group. Stan had shot up as well, just above the six foot mark, but Craig had surpassed him, coming in at just over six and a half feet.

"I wonder if he knows he got hot," Kyle had remarked once, sometime during their junior year. He'd said it after they'd all stolen some beers from Stan's dad and went to the pond to get blasted, so his tongue was a little looser than normal. Stan had only shrugged and gone back to his own beer, having a much higher tolerance from years of closet whiskey consumption; he knew how to handle his sauce.

Abruptly, Craig stopped and waited for Stan to pass. He looked around, sharp eyes taking in his surroundings: a handful of other employees attending to their duties and one or two other customers, none of which were paying the pair the least bit of attention. He caught Stan's eyes and lifted his brows in silent question.

"I always forget. Where are the security cameras in this place?"

Surprised but not showing it, Stan glanced around. He pointed to a couple places on the ceiling; mostly the corners.

"There, there, and there. Why?"

"Just curious," Craig replied. "This is such a small place, I always wonder about security in smaller stores."

"Is that a fact?" Stan smirked, beginning to move again, leading Craig back toward the fish area. A wall of tanks glowed blue and serene, a multitude of fish species in a myriad of colors wafting through their enclosures. He looked up, eyes scanning the ceiling. "There's usually a camera back here, but I don't think it's working right now." He turned to Craig and shrugged lightly. "Smaller stores, you know."

"Well, that's a shame, isn't it?" Craig asked, slowly walking over to Stan but not stopping when they were chest to chest, easing him backward and into a shadowed corner; out of view of the rest of the store. Placing his hands on Stan's hips, he smiled lazily. "So, you're saying I could physically accost you right now and no one would know?"

"You didn't really need a fish, did you?" Stan sighed while leaning back against the wall. "You know, you could come up with better excuses to stop by."

"Mm, it wasn't an excuse," Craig murmured, leaning down and lapping at Stan's neck; his tongue swirling over a rapid pulse. "I wanted to get Tweek a little something. He's alone so much, you know? It makes me feel bad."

"You? Feel bad about something? What a concept," Stan replied, wryly. Tipping his head back, he allowed Craig to kiss his throat, his entire body warming up as he fell into the sensation. "You know, you could just get a job that doesn't make you travel so much. Just saying."

"We've talked about this," Craig said, his tongue traveling up Stan's jawline until he was kissing his mouth; his touch becoming more forceful. "I like my job...I like seeing new places."

"You like money," Stan laughed, nearly dissolving as Craig slipped his tongue between his lips; tasting him, feverish kisses driving him crazy.

"Not as much as I like this," Craig said, softly. He reached down to cup Stan's cock through his pants, squeezing gently; eyes finally lighting up to hear Stan gasp against his mouth. "Can you get out of here?"

"Yeah, yeah," Stan said, his back still pressed tightly against the wall as Craig worked him gently with his hand. "I can leave a little early. Did you still want a fish, or...?"

"Right," Craig muttered, glancing over and pointing at the first fish he saw; a simple, orange-red goldfish. "That one's fine. I'll take it."

\-------

Stan could never figure out how Craig did it, how he could make him feel so good...so fucking dirty and wanted. Craig knew how to make him pant, how to make him beg, and he hated to admit that he loved it; all of it. He didn't really feel like himself when he was with Craig, and maybe that was a good thing. He was usually so retiring, so laid back, but when he was in Craig's arms, it was almost like he came alive. He suddenly felt like a creature of pure energy and deep carnal lust; in short, he became a sex-crazed animal always ready for more.

"You can be as loud as you want, baby," Craig instructed as he slowly slid Stan's zipper down. He'd already pulled off Stan's shirt and thrown it on the floor, and now he was working on the southern hemisphere; deft fingers unwrapping Stan like a gift. "I made sure we'd have the rest of the afternoon to ourselves."

"Where's Tweek?" Stan asked, shifting a little on the bed so it was easier for Craig to pull his pants off. He watched as they sailed to the floor as well, and then Craig began to languidly undress himself.

"Let's not talk about him, okay?" Craig asked, shifting his focus to the pretty goldfish as it swam placidly in its brand new bowl. He slipped off his suspenders and began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing toned, pale skin. Stan's mouth watered just at the sight of it, knowing that it would be warm but firm beneath his hands; knowing that it would be pressed up against him very soon.

"Whatever you say," Stan replied, stroking himself through his briefs when Craig was standing before him in only his boxers. He loved Craig's body in a different way than how he adored Kyle's. Craig was sinewy and hard from hours of working out, but Kyle was like a ripe, little strawberry; delicate but plump in the places that mattered. Stan liked to run his hands over Craig's muscles but with Kyle he just wanted to squeeze him, almost like he was checking to see if he was ready to be eaten.

"I think I'd like to taste you before I do anything else," Craig said, settling on the bed and crawling over to Stan. Running his hand over Stan's cock, he seemed amused at the way he shuddered, delighting in the fact that he could make another person tremble just by touching them. Slowly, he eased Stan's briefs down and wrapped his hand around his already hard cock, looking into Stan's eyes the whole time.

"You like that?"

"Ugh, don't tease me," Stan groaned, arching a little when Craig began to pump him lightly; elegant fingers soft but strong at the same time.

"But it's my favorite thing to do," Craig said, leaning down at lapping at the tip of Stan's cock, licking away dribbles of pre-cum. He licked his lips and lifted his gaze to meet Stan's again, his eyes becoming predatory. "Do you know how good you taste?"

Stan could only shake his head, his hands already fisting the sheets.

"Here, give it a try." Dipping low again, Craig licked up more of Stan's cum before he crawled forward, leaning down to kiss Stan's lips; sharing the flavor when his tongue snuck into his mouth. Pulling away, he smiled down at him. "What do you think?"

"I think you totally get off on driving me crazy," Stan pouted, whimpering as Craig turned his attentions back to his cock. Suddenly, a wet mouth closed over the head and he almost cried out, shutting his eyes tight.

Craig didn't reply but Stan could swear he felt his lips quirking into a smile even as he bobbed his head up and down on Stan's cock, working him like a 9 to 5 and making him want to come out of his skin. He could feel Craig's fingers gripping his hips and keeping him in place, holding him down in a possessive, animalistic way that only made him thirsty for more; so much more.

He was just on the cusp of coming when Craig pulled away, and he opened his eyes to study his face; feeling groggy but pleased. Craig was looking at him with that same predatory light in his eyes, slightly disconcerting but effortlessly sexy, and his heart picked up its pace. They just stared at each other for a moment, and Stan could vividly remember the first time they'd fucked, but that time it hadn't been in Craig and Tweek's bedroom, no, that time it had been in a moderately priced hotel.

"I love seeing your face like this. Did you know that?" Craig ran a hand through his hair, mussing it. Stan loved seeing him sex-wrecked, a little less in control; he had a feeling Craig needed it sometimes.

"Someone's in a pensive mood," Stan teased, reaching out and placing his hand on top of Craig's; squeezing it gently.

"Oh, hush. I can be vulnerable too, you know...just like you right now." Reaching over, he picked up a bottle from the bedside table.

"Me, vulnerable?"

"Yeah, you look so sweet when I touch you like this," Craig replied, lifting Stan's hand to his face and kissing it. Drawing away, he snapped the bottle open and drenched his fingertips with a clear substance; he set it aside. "It's nice, you know? Sometimes I get so tired of pretenses."

"Don't we all?" Stan asked, turning over and lifting himself into the air; presenting himself like an offering to a god. He grinned, liking that thought; maybe Craig was his own personal god for the afternoon. He almost whimpered when he felt warm, wet fingertips entering him, opening him deliciously. Christ, he loved the sensation of being open but filled at the same time, and Craig knew just how to make him feel both ways at once.

"Turn your face toward me," Craig murmured, adding a second finger as he prepared Stan with slow, deliberate care. "I like to watch you."

Stan obliged, turning his head and resting his flushed cheek on the cool pillow, closing his eyes. He loved this part, the build-up, being finger fucked by Craig Tucker as the late afternoon sunshine flooded the master bedroom he shared with Tweek. It was almost like living another life, a stranger's life...an exciting existence filled with nothing but erotic, forbidden thrills.

He did whimper when Craig eased a third finger in, and he pushed back against the pressure, clutching the pillow in trembling hands. Why did he have to be so fucking good at this?

"You ready?" Craig asked, sliding in and out of him, scissoring his fingers back and forth; deliberately passing over Stan's sweet spot and making him drool.

"Yes, god, yes," Stan sighed, lifting himself higher while spreading his thighs a little further apart. He wanted to feel Craig's strong hands digging into his hips and leaving bruises; he wanted to be fucked and filled until he couldn't even remember his own name. "Please," he begged, knowing that Craig loved to hear him break down; lived to hear the yearning and pleading in Stan's voice at times like this.

"My little slut," Craig breathed, removing his fingers and leaving Stan feeling empty and used but knowing he craved those feelings...just as long as they didn't last for too long. He never made him wait longer than necessary though, and before too long Stan could feel Craig's warmth pressing into him; a nicely sized cock entering him in exquisite, little thrusts.

Stan could feel the sweat cresting his body as Craig pushed into him, finally bottoming out and becoming still, his hips pressed to Stan's ass; warmth passing between them. The air conditioning wasn't flowing at the moment and he could feel his flesh heating up but he loved it, god, how he loved it. When Craig was inside of him he almost felt like he was going to burn up, and the feeling only intensified when Craig began to move in earnest; steady, strong thrusts rocking Stan forward and closer to the headboard.

He was just glad that Craig had made it very clear that it was okay to scream, because Stan couldn't hold back the noises passing between his lips; guttural, primal mewls that seemed to bounce off the walls. Craig was holding him just the way he liked, hard and unafraid of leaving marks, and he was fucking Stan just the way he loved: fast and rough and needful. Craig had always been short on words and even shorter on emotions, but when they were like this it was like Stan could understand him completely. This was a guy that loved sex, and he especially loved fucking Stan, though he couldn't understand why.

Stan was sinking into the sensation of being pounded into like he would a hot bath when Craig shifted the angle, making sure to hit Stan's sweet spot with every single thrust. He cried out, opening his eyes finally but not really seeing anything, trying to focus on the shadows skittering across the walls as sweet, gentle winds wafted into the room; pushing back the gauzy curtains and making them flutter. After a moment, he felt a large hand wrapping around his throbbing cock and working him in long, careful strokes; the skin moistened by lube and sweat.

"Mm, gonna cum, okay? You want daddy to finish inside of you, baby?" Craig's voice always dropped several octaves when he was on the road to finishing, and it filled up Stan's head like dark, tantalizing chamber music. If that sound were a food, it'd be rich milk chocolate or expensive dessert wine. He nodded, pushing back against Craig's thrusts and arching himself so that the hand holding his cock created a newer heat; even more mesmerizing friction.

"Please, please, please," Stan sighed and begged all at the same time, giving himself over to the beauty winding through his blood like a sedative. "Come in me, daddy...fill me up..."

"I love when you're dirty for me," Craig purred, his thrusts coming faster and harder and more all-consuming. Stan knew he was going to ache between his legs the next day but he didn't care. When they were two steps away from the edge he didn't give a fuck if he'd even be able to walk afterward; he just wanted it all, everything Craig could throw at him.

He could feel Craig tense up before the warmth was flowing into him, and the hand wrapped around his cock squeezed a little tighter, almost hurting him but not quite; shudders erupting through his body as his cum splattered on the bedspread. He was shaking like he'd been drenched in cold rainfall as his orgasm tore through him, Craig taking his hand away and clutching at his hips until he nearly screamed, holding onto him tightly like he was tethering him to the earth. Craig was never loud when he came, opting instead to cling to Stan and leaning forward, resting his sweaty chest against his trembling back; ragged breaths wafting over his skin and warming the back of his neck. Stan became still as Craig kept pumping into him, relishing the feeling of warm cum streaking down the backs of his thighs; sinking into the feeling of being used for an afternoon, getting off on being someone's dirty little secret.

"You're perfect," Craig murmured, still laying across Stan's back; his rapid heartbeat flush against Stan's skin.

Stan smiled, looking over his shoulder at the dazed expression on Craig's flushed face. It was strange seeing him with rosy cheeks; Craig was designed to be pale, almost translucent. It was part of his beauty.

"You always say that after you get your rocks off," Stan replied, resting his cheek against the pillow again; disappointed that it was no longer cool, the fabric almost as warm as his skin.

\-------

"I'd leave Tweek for you. Did you know that?"

Stan glanced at Craig, taken aback at his statement but not really wanting to acknowledge it. He turned back to the goldfish, watching it turn in circles, its delicate fins opening and wafting in the water; see-through like moth's wings. He hoped that Tweek enjoyed his surprise, knowing that it would receive all the care in the world. He'd always liked Tweek, viewing him in a tender, almost indulgent light. He complemented Craig perfectly, representing the softness that his partner lacked; Craig being all sharp angles and brash words.

"What do you think he'll name him?" Stan asked, gesturing to the fish. He was already dressed and ready to leave, having already texted Kyle about meeting up for drinks.

Craig was silent for awhile, and even though Stan wasn't looking at him he knew that he was staring at him; the same sensation from earlier in the day passing over his body. He hated when Craig got like this, thoughtful and almost morose, speaking of emotions and wanting to delve into places that just didn't exist for them.

"I'm not sure. Something cute, probably," he finally replied, rising from the bed and coming to stand behind Stan. He placed his warm hands on his shoulders, pressing his fingers into Stan's skin. "You can't stay? Tweek won't be home for hours."

"Don't you love him?" Stan asked, reaching up and placing a hand over one of Craig's. He felt for his wedding ring and found it, rubbing a finger over the cool metal.

"Of course I do, he's my duckling." Craig didn't sound offended by the question. If anything, he sounded methodical and sure, which only confused Stan more.

"Then why do you say things like that? You knew what I wanted when all of this started."

"Yeah, and I've never understood it, Stan. You seem like a person who wouldn't fuck without a commitment. I don't get you."

Stan shrugged, pulling away and heading for the doorway. He turned to see Craig regarding him, his eyes softening as evening began to fall outside; the sky royal purple as stars drifted into their accustomed places. A feeling of fleeting sadness passed through him as he studied Craig's face, but he fought it away. Things hadn't always been like this between them, something having shifted somewhere along the way, though not in his mind. Craig had fallen, and he'd tried to warn him against allowing that to happen.

"I know what I want," Stan said, softly. "I told you that at the beginning."

"What you want isn't good for you. I am, and you know that."

"No, you're good for Tweek. That's something I know for sure."

"That's an interesting thing to hear you say, considering I just fucked you on his side of the bed," Craig scoffed, his eyes narrowing. Stan could only smile, knowing he was becoming savage because his feelings were hurt; he couldn't hold it against him.

"If this makes you unhappy, we could stop at anytime. I've been telling you that for months, Craig."

A stricken look came over Craig at those words, and he hurriedly walked over to Stan and gathered him in his arms.

"No, I don't want that. You know I don't want that."

Stan reciprocated the embrace, winding his arms around Craig's back. He sighed, softly.

"Then be satisfied with what we have, okay?"

The tension seemed to leak out of Craig's body at these words, and it he almost sagged against Stan for a moment; allowing himself to weaken. All at once, he stiffened and pushed himself away, running a hand through his hair, still sex-wrecked and undeniably fetching. He looked down at Stan, and the only thing vulnerable about him in that moment were his eyes; having warmed up to a pewter shade.

"You're working tomorrow, right?" He asked, throwing Stan for a loop.

Stan nodded uncertainly.

"Yeah, in the morning."

"So, your afternoon will be free?" Craig smirked now, his eyes already coming back to themselves.

Stan laughed, shaking his head.

"What, are you going to be buying another pet for Tweek?"

Craig gestured to the pretty fish, drifting a finger over the bowl as the creature's scales burned in the dying sunlight.

"He's gonna need a friend, don't you think?"


End file.
